<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>promise of the wolves by afarcrythrone</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493256">promise of the wolves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/afarcrythrone/pseuds/afarcrythrone'>afarcrythrone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Children of the Forest, Emotional Support, Family, Game of Thrones Alternate Season 06, Gen, Giants, House Stark, Magic, Old Magic, Slow Burn, The Old Gods (ASoIaF), Werewolves, Wolf Pack, winter is coming</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:01:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/afarcrythrone/pseuds/afarcrythrone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter is coming, but the North will not go quietly into the Long Night.</p><p>Sansa has escaped the clutches of Ramsey Bolton with Theon Greyjoy. They flee through ice, snow and forest until the Lady of Winterfell finds herself alone. However, she will not have to make the journey to Castle Black on her own as a friend appears in an unusual form.</p><p>This is a Season Six AU where Daenerys Targaryen’s dragons are not the only old magic returning to the world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. fly, little bird</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It felt mad to trust Theon after everything he had done. </p><p>
  <em> Run! Don’t stop. We must keep going! </em>
</p><p>Through the woods Sansa Stark fled. Her bright red hair whipping in the wind as she struggled to keep up with the man who tugged at her desperately. There was a howl of a dog in the distance, a promise of men and horses on their way. She would not let them take her. She would rather die frozen and starved than sit waiting in a tower for Ramsey to pull her apart slowly.</p><p>
  <em> If only I had a dagger, I could cut my own throat... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If only I had a drop of poison, I could swallow it... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If only… </em>
</p><p>As the baying of the hounds drew closer, Sansa collapsed into the snow behind an old felled trunk. Her lungs burned, her legs burned, and she could barely feel the tips of her toes. Theon tugged at her desperately, willing her to go on.</p><p>“Go North... Jon is Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He’ll protect you,” Theon’s voice was shaky, but the words gave her purpose. </p><p>
  <em> “Go North. Only North.” </em>
</p><p>Theon pulled away and scrambled over the rocks and fallen wood. She heard the horses stop and sharp words of Bolton men peppered Theon with questions she couldn’t make out over the continued baying of their hounds. He was buying her time, giving her a chance to vanish into the woods. She had been gifted a chance to flee her prison before and she hadn’t taken it. She would not make that mistake again.</p><p>
  <em> Bran and Rickon are alive. Jon is North. There is hope there. There is a chance. </em>
</p><p>She would die before she returned to Ramsey.</p><p>Fighting through the pain of her freezing limbs Sansa ran. <em> It’s nothing. I have endured worse </em>.</p><p>
  <em> “Go North. Only North.” </em>
</p><p>At any moment she expected the hounds to fall upon her. For the Boltons to snatch her up and return her to Winterfell where Ramsey would smile and make her wish for death. When she could bear the burning in her lungs no longer, Sansa fell to her knees. Her chest heaving and she waited. No one came. No dogs. No men on horseback. Not even Theon.</p><p>The trees rustled. A bird sang in the distance.</p><p><em> Free. </em>For now.</p><p>She could not stay here. Slowly, Sansa got to her feet and tried to formulate a plan to survive. She was no fool, she had been born in the North, and no one survived alone in the woods. The air was beginning to become brittle with the chill of the evening. She would need to find some sort of shelter before full dark or she would freeze and she certainly could not count on coming across anyone who might grant her some place dry and warm. Even if Ramsey attempted to keep her escape quiet, a woman alone in the woods was far too easy prey for hungry men. She would have to stay off of the roads and away from people.</p><p>
  <em> She could not trust the kindness of men. They were only pretty wrapping for lies. </em>
</p><p>Kindness seemed to flutter in and out of her life like a painful whisper. Her father’s head had been taken in front of her while her mother and brother lost theirs far away at the Twins. Which was worse? Seeing the sword swing death down upon her father, or the nightmares that never left her of her mother’s defiled corpse and the monstrous remains of Robb and Grey Wind. The greatest mercy that had graced her was Arya vanishing from King’s Landing. Joffrey had often tried to convince her that Arya was dead. Describing bodies of young girls found in the streets. Brining her clumps of brown hair and mangled bits to claim it was all that was left of her sister. No matter how awful his descriptions and how eagerly they spilled from his lips, she never believed they ever found Arya. Joffrey’s cruelty always seemed incomplete when it came to her sister. He hated and feared her far too much, and Sansa was certain nothing would have brought him greater joy than to personally present Arya’s head to her.</p><p>Arya, noisy and wild Arya. Perhaps even now she was running filthy and free though the woods. It was a silly story she liked to tell herself sometimes. A foolish dream, but she preferred it to the alternative. Now what was her family? Theon had told her Bran and Rickon had escaped Winterfell when it had been sacked by the Ironborn. Were they still alive? Poor Bran, unable to walk, and sweet Rickon had been so small still. She hoped they still lived. She hoped they could be found. Arya, Bran and Rickon. Her family. Her blood.</p><p>
  <em> And Jon. </em>
</p><p>Shame flooded her face. Her half-brother was her family as well. What would she say to him? What would he make of her? The nasty little sister who ignored him and was now begging at his door for protection. For a brief moment she wondered if he would scoff and send her away. If he even would recognize her after all this time.</p><p>
  <em> He never would do that. </em>
</p><p>The thought was dashed away. Jon may not love her like she knew he loved Arya, but he would not refuse her. He was like Robb that way. Like their father. It was the Stark in them.</p><p>Sansa slipped and fell down on one knee, sharp rocks cutting her dress and jabbing at her leg. She swallowed a cry and gingerly got back to her feet. Her leg was bleeding but only slightly. She hobbled over to a boulder and sat, dabbing at the blood until it stopped. </p><p>The sun was setting behind the trees and the chill continued to grow stronger as Sansa pulled her cloak tighter. She needed shelter. Her stomach gnawed at her but she ignored it. There hadn’t been time to bring anything but the clothes on her back.</p><p>Should she start a fire? Would the light and smell carry far enough to draw unwanted attention to her? The coming winter meant that the beasts of the woods were few, but they would also be hungry. Fire was a strong deterrent to anything that might make a meal of her. She had seen fires started many times, but she had never expected to start one herself. She looked down at her hands, stiff and aching with the cold, as they started to swell.</p><p>Something snapped a twig behind her. Her heart tried to leap from her chest, as Sansa slid off the boulder to keep it between her and whatever was lurking. A bear? A Bolton? She held her breath and tried to peak around the rock. </p><p>It was silent but for the wind. No horses. No hounds. She let her breath pass her lips and felt her heart start to calm.</p><p>That’s when she saw it. A massive, black direwolf with a muzzle dappled with snowy white spots, standing a short distance away. </p><p>Regarding her.</p><p>Their eyes met and Sansa wondered if this was to be her end. Would anyone ever find her body? Would one day a scrap of her clothes blow back to the courtyard of Winterfell? Would someone trip over her bones a hundred winters from now? She braced herself for the wolf to lunge forward.</p><p>It didn’t move. It didn’t growl. It just stared at her with bright blue eyes.</p><p>Slowly, she got to her feet. Later, she wouldn’t be able to recall what had possessed her to do what she did next, but in the moment it felt right. Sansa raised her hand, palm upwards, as she used to do with Lady when she was training her.</p><p>“Hello,” she said softly.</p><p>The wolf slowly stepped forward on massive black paws, its eyes never leaving her face. Sansa stood frozen until finally, the beast stood so close to her that she could feel its hot breath on her hand. It sniffed her and then... Turned and walked a few feet away where it sat down facing away from her. As if it had deemed her no longer any interest.</p><p>Sansa was baffled as her fear began to slow ebb.</p><p>There was no point in fretting about the beast. It would either ignore her, or it would kill her. She would have no say in the matter. At least it would be quick. No games. Sansa sat down on the ground and started to wonder if Arya ever thought of her. If Jon did. Or Bran. Or Rickon.</p><p>What had been her father’s last thoughts? Her mother’s? Robb’s?</p><p>There was the heavy crunch of massive footsteps and Sansa looked up at the black direwolf. It’s face now inches from hers.</p><p>“If you’re going to eat me, please hurry up and get on with it,” she said softly.</p><p>
  <em> Why wasn’t it getting on with it? </em>
</p><p>It didn’t bite off her head in one gulp. It didn’t snarl, or swipe at her with a massive paw. It lay down on the ground half curled next to her. The heat coming off of its body was like a balm against the cold. Its coarse fur reminding her so much of her sweet Lady. She had been the gentlest creature Sansa had ever known.</p><p>
  <em> The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives... </em>
</p><p>The Lady of Winterfell slowly curled up tight against the direwolf and let exhaustion take her away to a dark, dreamless sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've been sitting on this idea for a long time, and after spending the last few months of quarantine reading some absolutely INCREDIBLE GOT fanfictions I decided to join in on the fun. It'll probably be long and we'll start to really deviate from canon by the next chapter.</p><p>Hope you enjoy the journey!</p><p>This work is unbeta'd.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the wolf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sansa tries to survive.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>she spotted the hare</em>
  </p>
</div><p>
  <em>barely a whiff of white against the hard, dark dirt<br/>
</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>it bolted - running for its life</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>but she was running for hers as well</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>she came close, so close</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>her teeth grazing the hares tail</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>but her brothers were not there to help her</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>but her sister was not there</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>the hare ran for its life</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>and she pursued</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sansa awoke shivering in the cold. The sun was breaking through the trees, but by the bite of the cold it was early yet. She had made it through the night.</p>
<p>
  <em>The wolf.<br/>
</em>
</p>
<p>She sat up, ignoring her stiff muscles, and looked around. Had he left her? A wolf who appeared out of the woods to watch over her sounded like something from a song of the Starks of old. Had she imagined it all? Was she now in pieces back at Winterfell as Ramsey's latest work of art? <em>Was it her freedom that was but a dream?</em></p>
<p>And then, lumbering out of the woods, came the great black wolf. In his mouth was a bloody rabbit. She stared as it slowly padded over to her and laid the rabbit before her. He licked around his bloodied muzzle and then lay down, watching her almost expectantly. Sansa didn't move and the wolf sat there waiting, his eyes flickered to the rabbit and back to her.</p>
<p>
  <em>Food. He has brought me food.</em>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Unfortunately, unlike the wolf, she could not eat a raw rabbit. It needed to be skinned and cooked which were both things she had never had to do for herself before. She had seen it done many times before, especially while traveling from Winterfell to King's Landing. Her father had kept her far less sequestered than Lord Baelish had. How could she start a fire? The snows and morning dew had made everything wet and soggy. Was there dry wood to be found? Perhaps under a bush? There were enough of those around. She got to her feet, ignoring the complaining aches that shot through her and started to search the brush, ever aware of the wolf's watchful eyes. The first two bushes she checked were soaked straight through, but the third had a hidden tangle of thick, dead grass. Dry enough that it crumpled easily between her fingers.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sansa clutched her little bundle carefully in her hands and returned to a spot near the wolf. The rabbit remained in a pile of blood and limbs and she supposed she should be grateful for the strange patience of wolves. He could probably gobble the creature up in only a few bites. Kicking away some snow and dirt to create a little dry patch, she knelt down and set the bundle of grass before her, making a halfhearted attempt to arrange them as best as she could imitate from what she remembered.</p>
  <p>Now how would she start the fire? Using a rock to strike for a spark had the same dampness issues as the wood around her, but... She had only the clothes on her body, and t<em>here were a few gems sewn into her dress.</em> With practiced fingers and a few hard yanks, she managed to free several of the decorative pieces from her gown. Ramsey was a monster, but his father had insisted he provide the necessities so that the Lady of Winterfell could at least dress appropriately. Appearances were so important even if was only to parade her before disinterested eyes.</p>
  <p>Sansa dashed the darker thoughts that threatened to creep forward.</p>
  <p>Kneeling on the ground before her grass pile she tried striking the pale gems together. One immediately cracked and she tossed it away. Two others started to feel warm in her hands.</p>
</div><p>
  <em>Clack… Clack… Clack.. Clack… Clack.</em>
</p>
<p>Her fingers began to ache and crack, and a speckle of blood trickled onto the ground. She swallowed a sob that began to build in her throat.</p>
<p>
  <em>Clack… Clack.. Clack. ClackClackClack-</em>
</p>
<p>Suddenly, the faintest wisp of<em> a</em> flame sparkled<em>.</em> She sucked in a breath and held it.<em><br/>
</em></p>
<p>
  <em>ClackClackClackClackClack-</em>
</p>
<p><em>Fire</em>! The grass started to crackled and blacken as a little, precious tendril of flame licked hungrily through the bundle. As carefully as she could Sansa nurtured the flame with her breath. She glanced up at the wolf, still watching her, as a grin spread across her face. She had done it. She had <em>done it. </em>Carefully, she pocketed her gemstones, now precious to her for a far different reason.</p>
<p>She burned part of the rabbit, but she didn't care. Picking at the meat with singed fingers before it had even fully cooled, she are what she could. Her mother would have been horrified to see her eating like this, it wasn't ladylike in the slightest, and wiping her chin with the back of her sleeve was the sort of undignified behavior Arya usually engaged in. Her armour of courtesy was broken, for it had not protected her among the Boltons. She stared at her hands and thought of her father, a Lord, and yet his hands had been worn and calloused. He had never shied away from using his hands. He had given her Stark blood and Stark strength.</p>
<p>
  <em>I will not starve. I will not freeze. I will not die out here. I will get to Castle Black and see Jon.</em>
</p>
<p>After that, she wasn’t sure.</p>
<p>But her father had been right and his voice seemed to ring in her ears: <em>"Winter is coming."</em></p>
<p>She got to her feet and looked around to get her bearings. It had taken her so long to deal with the fire and rabbit that the light had already begun to change. She wouldn’t get much walking in before night began to fall, but i had been worth it to eat. The gnawing pains in her stomach had lessened to only a dull ache. That she could bare easily.</p>
<p>The darker thoughts rose again and she started to walk, leaving them behind. The wolf got to its feet and padded after her, sniffing at her hands. Probably intrigued by the scent of cooked rabbit, but while she had eaten he hadn't made any attempt to approach her for a piece. Nymeria had often sat and begged at the table as Arya slipped her scraps until their mother noticed and scolded her.</p>
<p>The wolf continued to follow her. He occasionally wandered off for whatever reason a wolf might have, but always returned as if he was checking up on her. She did notice that they never seemed to run into any other hungry predators. No bears, no other wolves. Perhaps they were out there but way of challenging the beast at her heels. <em>A sworn sword on four legs. </em>What a song it would make.</p>
<p>Sansa hummed softly to herself as she walked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night when Sansa could walk no further and had started to lie down pressed up against a tall, thick tree the wolf had once against curled his body around her. His thick coarse fur could have been the softest silks in King's Landing for the safety and comfort they made her feel. When she felt sleep begin to settle on her she thought of Lady. Dear, sweet Lady. She hadn't even been given the chance to become full grown. Lady felt like a song from an era long ago, but she still remembered the gentle amber of her wolf's eyes. Her patience. A true lady in fur. Sleepily, Sansa looked up at the great black wolf's face, his own eyes watching her intently. What was he thinking&gt;</p>
<p>"You should have a name," Sansa croaked, her voice thin from exhaustion and disuse. Lady. Greywind. Nymeria. Ghost. And... What had Bran named his direwolf? He had still been asleep when her father had taken her and Arya to King's Landing. She had never learned the wolf's name. It seemed wrong that she did not know it.</p>
<p>
  <em>Bran was out there somewhere. And Rickon. They would be safe with their wolves.</em>
</p>
<p>If they were still alive.</p>
<p>
  <em>Lady. Greywind. Nymeria. Mother. Father. Robb. Arya.</em>
</p>
<p>There were too many names. Too many faces left to haunt her. Too little of her family was left. She had to believe Bran and Rickon were still out there somewhere. And maybe... Arya? Her sister was so strong and no one had ever found her. If any of her lost siblings could find their way home it would be her.</p>
<p>The direwolf curled a little tighter around her and huffed. She felt a wet nose nuzzle at her cheek.</p>
<p>"You should have a name..." Sansa repeated sleepily as she drifted off.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>